


Let Me Hear You (with Whispers like Poetry)

by fourredfruits



Series: Dust to Dust [3]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, Character Study, M/M, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has Issues, winteriron
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-16
Updated: 2015-03-16
Packaged: 2018-03-18 04:45:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3556532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fourredfruits/pseuds/fourredfruits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What's with you and Stark?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Me Hear You (with Whispers like Poetry)

**Author's Note:**

> I spent a totally ridiculous amount of time on this one and It's the longest one-shot I've ever written. If only I devoted such time and effort to academic papers and real life responsibilities, if only, *sigh*. 
> 
> I wanted to get people to talk to each other (It was so hard, they didn't want to talk, they just wanted to be a tiny rambling ball of feels) and so I tried different things in this one. I really hope it works for you. There were some other things I wanted to mention but I'm too sleep-deprived to remember what they were. So here are the usual: 
> 
> This won't make much sense if you haven't read the previous works in the series. 
> 
> Lots of love for you lovely people! Your kudos and comments make me smile so damn hard!

 

 

 

"What's with you and Stark?"

 

Natasha asked as she gracefully lowered herself on the chair next to the couch Buck was currently sprawled out on, fresh out of shower and playing with his tablet. Bucky raised one eyebrow at her and she could see the hint of amusement hovering over the tip of his lips.

 

"Why, Nat, since when were you interested in other people's business?"

 

Natasha's head tilted to one side in slight exasperation.

 

"Don't play dumb. Everyone in this building knows that there's something going on between you two."

 

Bucky frowned at her words and slowly pushed himself up on his arms.

 

"What? Seriously?"

 

Natasha rolled her eyes. While Bucky looked honestly surprised, she knew it meant nothing. He was as good as her when it came to controlling facial expressions and unlike her, he practiced his skills on pretty much daily basis. Sometimes she wondered how much of _this_ Bucky Barnes was the guy he once was, the loyal friend of Captain America, and how much of it was a show.

 

It didn't mean she didn't trust him. She did. No convincing front can be all lies. She knew better than anyone that fronts can never hold up without a sufficient dose of truth. And Bucky Barnes could be convincing, she would give him that. More importantly, she knew that if he was putting on a show, it was for Steve and the others' benefits. So she simply said,

 

"You two act like you are invisible to each other when in the same room but for some reason, you proved yourself to be the only person with an override code to Tony's private lab out of all of us. I think it was pretty hard to miss that information considering the little spectacle of last week and now you are back to acting like strangers. We have eyes, Bucky."

 

Bucky cocked his head and stared at her.

 

He finally drawled, "Alright, and it's anybody's business because...?"

 

Before she could open her mouth, Bucky held up his finger in front of him. She eyed it suspiciously.

 

"And don't say, 'because we're a team.' You know Steve is the only one who can pull that off."

 

Natasha leveled him with a glare. She wasn't sure if she felt more annoyed or amused by the fact that Bucky, out of everyone, actually had an inkling about how her mental process worked. On top of that, he had this uncanny ability to see through whatever exquisite bullshit she masterfully spun out (which was exquisite enough to fool a certain Norse god of lies, mind you). Clint once said that he would kill for that kind of superpower (because it was certainly beyond human ability, he added).

 

Bucky made a thoughtful noise in his throat and tapped his metal fingers on the screen of his tablet. She cringed at the horrible sound it made.

 

"I know you wouldn't do this unless you found it relevant or necessary, which means,"

 

He narrowed his eyes in disapproval.

 

"It's S.H.I.E.L.D., isn't it?"

 

She didn't deny the accusation which was an answer enough for him.

 

"Why would they care, though?"

 

Natasha vaguely stated, "Iron Man has a history of hiding pertinent information from S.H.I.E.L.D."

 

"You mean the time when he was dying from palladium poisoning."

 

She hadn't expected Bucky's knowledge of that particular event but decided not to comment on it. He peered at her skeptically for about a half a second before his mind (which she knew was much sharper than he'd like to let on) apparently caught up. A strange emotion flickered across his face.

 

"They think he's dying again?"

 

"They don't think it's entirely implausible. They might also have other ideas but generally I would say they just hate being kept in the dark. It kind of undermines the point of S.H.I.E.L.D. being one of the most powerful intelligence agencies in the world."

 

Bucky shook his head as if what she said was too ridiculous to hear.

 

"What the hell? Tell them to stop being stupid because _that_ undermines their authority more than anything else as far as I know. Also, they need to quit snooping the fuck around."

 

There was a strong distaste in his voice and Natasha shrugged her shoulders.

 

"Guess people are worried about him," she then thoughtfully added, "And you."

 

Bucky let out a sharp laugh at that and his lips twisted into what could be considered as a smile if it didn't look like it could cut through steel. 

 

"You mean they are worried the bombs might go off at any second. They want to keep a close eye on a former HYDRA's dog and a volatile genius with too much resources on his hand and too little reasons to cooperate."

 

He bit his word out with a venom and his posture shifted in a way only trained eyes could detect. There was a sort of lethal grace to his fluid motion which Natasha begrudgingly admired. Still, it would take much more to make her feel threatened.

 

"I highly doubt that's what Steve's worried about." 

 

At the mention of Steve's name, Bucky looked taken aback but soon his eyes softened.

 

"Steve's head doesn't work like most people's."

 

"Clint and Thor didn't say it but they worry about Tony, too. I'd also point out the fact that S.H.I.E.L.D. saved Tony's ass the last time they meddled but seeing your apparent aversion to them, I don't think it'd mean much. Besides, you know I wouldn't report on anything you don't want me to."

 

She said the last part with a grimace as if it physically pained her to admit it out loud. Bucky sighed, dropping his shoulders down in defeat and slumping back to the couch.

 

"Nothing is going on, Nat. No one's dying. No one's compromised. No one's secretly inventing the world's deadliest weapon behind Fury's back. No, wait, I'm not so sure about the last bit. But the point is, whatever you think is going on here is definitely _not_ going on."

 

Natasha made a noncommittal noise. The tip of her lips quirked upward slightly as she told him,

 

"Clint thinks you two are having some seriously kinky BDSM plays which happen to involve the silent treatment. He said it could work like sensory deprivation or something."

 

Bucky shook his head in exasperation but there was a ghost of a smile on his lips.

 

"Of course he does. He generally assumes everyone is fucking everyone until proven otherwise."

 

Natasha nodded and said, "Fair enough."

 

"So am I off the hook now?"

 

Looking back at Bucky, she felt her lips twitching for a real smile.

 

"For now. But I'll be watching you boys so behave yourselves."

 

Bucky smirked and stood up from the couch.

 

"Yes, ma'am."

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

Tony had been awake for forty six hours now and for the last twenty hours he'd been living off solely on sugar (he was hungry and found a tin can full of candies in one of the drawers) and how tired and bleary he felt at the moment was a sour reminder that he wasn't a young man anymore.

It grated on his nerves a little too harshly to know that his body would only get weaker over time. Not because he was a particularly vain man (Okay, not _only_ because he was a particularly vain man) but (also) because he hated when his body wouldn't move the way it used to.

 

It was a slow process but there was a deep apprehension that someday his body would go completely useless, immobile, whereas his mind would remain its ageless self. When he didn't move his body, the movement of his mind gained all the momentum to itself, spinning madly, and since that was the last thing he wanted, he filled his waking hours with constant physical movements. And feeding his mind just the right kind of information with a moderate level of such activity calmed it down most of the time.

 

Fuck. He thought even his inner dialogue was starting to stutter. He was pretty sure he repeated those thoughts to himself at least twice already. He rubbed hard at his eyes. Not yet, he couldn't sleep yet. He would just end up staring at the ceiling for hours if he went to bed now.

 

"Just go to bed."

 

Tony sluggishly blinked to find a familiar metal arm reaching out to steady him. The mechanical arm looked awesome. And then he remembered. Of course it was awesome, because he fucking made it (ha).

 

He mumbled out, "Can't."

 

Someone made a displeased noise above his head.

 

"Why?"

 

Tony opened his mouth to explain and closed it, and opened it again but words, together with the ugly noises constantly buzzing in his head, seemed to have died out.

 

All of a sudden, it was peacefully quiet in his head for once and the relief was so fucking great he almost stumbled. Maybe he did. He couldn't tell.

 

He now knew it was James holding him up (because obviously the voice and the arm could belong to anyone else, damn sugar crash) because his mind did _this_ (shutting up its damn mouth; it was funny, really, because that many people wanted Tony to do just that but it wasn't like Tony was _in their heads_ 24/7 so it couldn't be that awful, right?) only when James was around.

 

Huh. Was it a psychosomatic thing? Was Tony doing this to himself? Maybe a sort of self-hypnosis?

 

(Maybe he was radiating some sort of telepathic radio silence frequency, Tony would seriously have to look into that later.)

 

Whatever it was, he couldn't bring himself to care.

 

A fucking miracle was what it was.

 

"Oh, so you're doing it again."

 

He wasn't sure what he was doing. His eyes fluttered closed all on their own and as he fell into that blissful space of unconsciousness, he heard a soft sigh.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

The truth was, Bucky had no idea what the hell was going on either.

 

After talking to Nat, he decided to go down to the lab to find Tony who was, as he often was, fighting sleep and exhaustion with sheer stubbornness. Bucky heaved a sigh, knowing that he had to give up on having an actual, proper conversation once again, and walked up to the wobbling man in front of the steel table. Tony was muttering to himself with his eyelids already halfway down. From what his ears could gather, he was babbling about how he was _not_ going to fall asleep. Bucky rolled his eyes.

 

"Just go to bed."

 

Tony turned around at his voice and narrowly avoided headbutting hard into Bucky's clavicles. He heard Tony mumbling something close to, "Can't."

 

"Why?"

 

Tony opened his mouth and then proceeded to frown at the ground like it had insulted him somehow. Bucky felt the man leaning into him for support. Either that or Tony was attacking the ground with his face and Bucky was in his way. When Bucky felt him leaning in on a little _too_ heavily, he knew that Tony would be asleep in a second. Bucky caught his deadweight just in time.

 

"Oh, so you're doing it again."

 

It was the third time in a week that Tony seemed to instantly fall asleep on his feet as soon as Bucky got any near him, as if Bucky had an irresistible soporific effect or something. It _was_ bizarre and a little  alarming. And sadly, those three times pretty much covered the entirety of their interaction for the past week.

 

It wasn't that he didn't want Tony to get some much needed rest but he had to admit this was getting downright strange and unsettling and yes, kind of disheartening, too. Since he was starting to suspect if it was Tony Stark's infamous defense mechanism kicking in after the episode of last week. What if this was how Tony was shutting him out? If it was, it was some biological/chemical magic that he was performing here but Bucky knew better than to put anything beyond Tony Stark.

 

The first time happened after they got back from smashing Doom's upgraded bots and Tony had a panic attack (which JARVIS later told him was ' _not an uncommon occurrence_ '. Bucky still wasn't sure what made the AI to provide the information without any solicitation on his part. But since he couldn't imagine Tony programming his AI to inform random people about his conditions, he assumed the AI must've been, if it was possible, concerned about Tony).

 

After it passed, Tony promptly fell asleep in what could be the most inconvenient position (still on his knees and Bucky's arm around his shoulder) and Bucky had to dug him out of the pile of the armor pieces and drag him to his bed with a single arm (and it was his _real_ arm). Tony remained dead to the world all the while. He had to say, at least his serum-enhanced strength was put to good use on that day. 

 

Mind you, Bucky hated talking about his feelings as much as the next guy though he could suck it up and do it if he absolutely needed to. However, it was two completely different things to avoid talking about one's feelings and a simple and plain lack of any form of communication whatsoever.

 

They didn't talk much before. Now, they simply didn't _talk_.

 

He thought he'd had enough of this. _He_ wanted to know what was going on, or rather, if there was _anything_ going on that he should know about. It was ridiculous to have others speculating all kinds of things (never let it be said that spies and intelligence agents weren't suspicious/paranoid enough) about them when he himself had no idea what they were doing.  

 

So, in all consideration, Bucky decided to stay around until Tony woke up this time. Because contrary to what the general public would believe, living in the same tower didn't mean their shoulders brushed whenever they moved. This tower was enormous and everyone had their respective floor _and_ respective missions or jobs which meant they could actually go on months without seeing each other. He had relied on the next chance one too many times to bet on another yet again.

 

At first, he was just going to wait out in the living room after laying the sleeping man on his bed but then once Bucky got to Tony's bedroom, he realized the room was big enough that it wouldn't be too creepy if he stayed there. Seriously, it was huge.

 

He leafed through some S.H.I.E.L.D. reports, had lunch (because it was still in the morning when Tony passed out), watched Discovery Channel before he heard the rustle of bed sheets. He slowly looked up to find Tony blinking confusedly at him.

 

"James?"

 

Bucky cautiously got up and walked across the room in the most non-threatening way he could possibly manage. He was sure most people didn't want to wake up and suddenly find, well, him in their room. While Tony never showed any indication of fear or anxiety around him, he didn't feel like trying his luck. (Why did he think staying in Tony's room uninvited was a good idea?)

 

He studied Tony's face carefully and when he found no trace of negative emotions, he pointedly glanced at the empty space of the bed, silently asking for permission. Tony's brows knitted in a frown for a second before he understood and rolled his eyes theatrically like he thought Bucky was acting like a complete idiot.

 

Bucky sat down on the bed and told him, "Just making sure."

 

A handful of seconds passed in silence and while it wasn't uncomfortable, it was a bit more conspicuous than the usual soothing silence they shared when they were alone in the workshop. Nonetheless, Tony didn't seem to mind it much so Bucky knew he had to be the first one to break it.

 

He asked, "Are you not talking to me anymore?"

 

The look of confusion was back on Tony's face. His voice was hoarse with sleep when he blurted,

 

"No? I mean, yes? I'm talking to you. I think I'm doing it now."

 

Bucky nodded.

 

"Okay. Good. So is there any reason why we don't talk?"

 

"About what?"

 

"Anything."

 

Tony stared at him for a long moment and Bucky could almost hear the cogs turning in his head as he processed the whole situation and what was said. Bucky waited patiently until understanding finally dawned on the genius's face. Tony looked horrified all of a sudden.

 

"Shit. Did I make you uncomfortable? Did I make things awkward? Fuck, I totally did. I literally fell asleep _on_ you. _Three_ times. Of course I did."

 

It was like the words came pouring out of him once Tony opened his mouth with a hitched breath.

 

Bucky hesitantly chewed on his lip, trying to gauge the right moment to cut in and, at the same time, feeling slightly amused despite himself. For some reason, his action made Tony's eyes widen a fraction more as he continued to stare at Bucky without blinking.

 

"I'm doing it right now, aren't I? I'm making things more awkward for you. God, I don't know what I've been thinking. Actually, I _wasn't_ thinking but, I, uh, I'm sorry. I really am. You must think I'm such a _freak_. And a huge dick. Because obviously you think I've been ignoring you but I wasn't. At least I didn't mean to."

 

Bucky finally interrupted him.

 

"Hey, no, you didn't do anything wrong and I'm not mad at you. I just wanted to talk, alright?"

 

When Tony didn't say anything, he continued.

 

"Okay, I think, I'm the one who started it in the first place. So as I said, there's no need for you to apologize. I wasn't in a particularly chatty mood when I first came here, remember? And my arm was all sorts of crazy so you had to work on it a lot. I guess you, well, both of us, grew used to it. I was okay with it, though. I like watching you working and I know,"

 

Uncertainty briefly flickered across his face. .

 

"That, for whatever reason, you find my presence, uh, relaxing and, for the record, I'm glad you do. But for the last week, you've been a tad more unusual in your method of relaxation and I was, well, worried."

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

Tony opened his mouth, closed it and then repeated the same motion a few more times. It was stupid, how he didn't seem to be able to form proper words around James. He could rant, because obviously he just did it now, but that was more of his default kicking in than anything. And fuck, it didn't help him that James was sitting on _his bed_ with his unbelievably gorgeous blue eyes intently focused on Tony.

 

Tony was getting more anxious with every passing second. He didn't want James to get up and leave because he was tired of waiting Tony to say something or maybe assumed that Tony didn't want to speak to him. James was terrific at covering up his emotions (Steve once mentioned how _Bucky_ was such an open book, always had been, which made Tony wonder, just for the briefest moment, _who the hell is Bucky?_ but then he heard James grumbling _shut up, Steve_ ) but there was no way Tony could've missed how unsure James sounded for a tiny fraction of a second before he expertly hid it away. The note of uncertainty was gone as soon as it appeared but he could bet on his life he didn't imagine it.

 

Right there and then, it came rushing to his mind how painstakingly careful James had been around him. No sudden moves or unexpected touches. Until now, he never thought they were meant for his sake. As far as he knew, James didn't _ask_ because he simply didn't _want_.

 

If James didn't talk it was because he didn't want to, didn't touch because he didn't want.

 

But what if he did?

 

Just how many times, in his whole life, had Tony actually asked for what he wanted?

( _Look at me; Love me; Stay with me; Don't leave me; Come back; Please_ )

And how many times had he ( _a goddamn coward_ ) asked for what he _never_ could have wanted and got exactly that?

( _You know what, Dad? I fucking wish you were dead; Jesus! will you just leave me alone?; Fuck whoever you want, I don't care; Go ahead, leave, no one's asking you to stay_ )

 

The realization slammed into him like a loaded freight train. Tony, out of all people, should have known. It honestly never occurred to him that James would want anything from him, not the mechanic, the businessman, or even the suit but just him.

 

Now that he thought about it, it made him so fucking angry how stupid and blind he had been. There was absolutely no way a person could forget what James had been through in one goddamn year, even if the person was a supersoldier with insanely charming smiles and the most _resilient_ and _beautiful_ mind Tony Stark had ever come across, who hid his pain, kindness and loyalty too damn well for his own good, and who was strong enough to care about other people while going through his own hell (and not just any other people, it was Tony fucking Stark, who was officially one of the most difficult individuals in the world to care about).

 

James had been acting so careful around him not because he wanted the distance but because he wasn't sure if he was entirely welcome, as if Tony giving him an override code, calling him into his workshop for a maintenance check on a suspiciously frequent basis, repeatedly falling asleep on him (yeah, probably not this one, this was too weird to be seen as an affectionate gesture by anyone's standard) weren't enough of an invitation and he needed to hear Tony say it.

 

But Tony couldn't say it.

 

It had been too long since the last time he asked for what he wanted that he no longer remembered how to. He didn't know how to tell James that he wanted ( _what? what did he want? did he even know?)._

 

His throat was rusty ( _pathetic_ ).

 

So instead he did the only thing he could do.

 

He reached out and touched the side of James' face. The touch was gentle and hesitant in a way that surprised himself since he never did anything gently or hesitantly. But then, he never wanted anything as much as he now wanted James to stay. He knew he was screwed. Because god, he was worse than a five-year-old when it came to wanting things.

 

It seemed like it was his turn to feel all uncertain and unsure. He didn't know what exactly James wanted from him or to what extent. Because Tony wanted to kiss his ridiculously pretty lips so much it was making him hard to breath but the thought of how James might not have that in his mind stopped him. He wanted to give what James wanted, whatever it was. Clearly it wasn't out of the goodness of his heart or anything. He was too much of a selfish bastard for that. But because he wanted James to stay more than anything.

 

Tony didn't think he'd want something ever again anymore, he had been weary to the bone. He felt his knees giving out under the weight of the dust of all that he hoped for ( _to stay_ ). Another futile hope and he was done for.

 

Yet here he was on the verge of another. Although he felt _alive_ for the first time in many years, he knew it would crush him to try and fail yet again. He didn't think he'd survive the damage this time around (not so young and bright-eyed anymore).

 

He stared into James' eyes, kind of wishing he was secretly telepathic, and started to withdraw his hand when James caught it in a tight grip and pulled him in and _kissed_ him.

 

A shiver ran down Tony's back in a doubtless unhealthy way as he was pulled into the solid heat of James' chest and he moaned into the man's mouth who, in turn, clutched at his shoulder like it was his lifeline. It should have hurt but he couldn't feel it. Everything felt so fucking right for once. He had touched and been touched by a lot of human bodies in countless different ways in his life but the body fitted against his right now felt like the human touch he'd been starved for so long somehow. 

 

The kiss was a reminder of how amazingly brave James was.

 

It had to scare him like it did Tony. James was young, but old beyond what any of them could imagine. The longsuffering years were etched in the way he carried himself, his graceful and refined movements the only tell-tale sign of what he'd lived through. It made him heartbreakingly beautiful to watch.

 

All these years HYDRA spent to break him and there was still so much left in James. Tony had always felt incredibly amazed by the fact. Courage, kindness, patience that Tony saw in him could be only described as heroic.

 

But what amazed Tony the most was that those traits were hard-earned by James himself, were smudged at their edges by something less noble, looking like they were clawed back from whatever dark and filthy void they'd once fallen into.

 

There were 'heroes', the golden-hearted ones, the virtuous souls, whose minds were never once touched by something less than good and their heroism and compassion shined blindingly bright and pure (like Captain America). Looking at them was like looking directly at the sun, it burned his eyes, made his throat dry, made him want to fly too close to the sun only to fall to his death.

 

Then he saw James Bucky Barnes. The first time Tony met him, his eyes were hollow and only shadows of ghosts lurked behind them. Tony was repeatedly told that the man was a highly dangerous individual but looking at him then, Tony could only see an empty shell of a man, another tragically beautiful and empty thing that he would take care of. He'd always loved broken things. He liked fixing them. This man, though, Tony knew he couldn't fix with tools, so he thought he'd simply keep him around. There were a lot of broken things that were beyond fix in his house anyway and if this man had nowhere to go, he could stay.

 

James wasn't one of those however.

 

With each day, James filled himself with something, anything, everything he could get his hands on. He seemed _ravenous_. He wolfed down the repugnant dishes of guilt, anger, self-hatred, despair and grief one by one with frightening determination. Those closed his wounds and healed his broken bones, leaving nasty scars all over, marking him like God did Cain. James had no choice but to build himself back from tainted scraps. For all that, somehow, for some incomprehensible reason, James chose forgiveness. Compassion, fortitude, generosity glimmered in him and looking at him was like looking up at the night sky. Tony knew James had to fight tooth and nails for those, _was_ fighting for those every moment of his waking hours.

 

And, fuck, how heroic was that?

 

 

When their lips broke apart, Tony swallowed down the lump in his throat and croaked, 

 

"I forget how to speak when I'm around you."

 

His confession seemed to have taken James by surprise but before long, an adorable smile broke across James' face. He chuckled a bit nervously as he asked Tony in an incredulous tone,

 

"What?"

 

Tony winced painfully.

 

"Uh-uh, you are not making me repeat that."

 

James bit down on his lip looking visibly torn between not wanting to offend Tony's feelings and expressing his apparent amusement. Tony could see his eyes crinkling around the corners.

 

"Well, It's,"

 

Tony swiftly cut in,

 

"I suggest you take great care in choosing your next words. I have highly delicate sensibilities."

 

James lifted his eyebrow at Tony and started again,

 

"Well, it's flattering,"

 

James suddenly paused, breaking off whatever he was going to say, and hastily asked,

 

"You meant that in a good way, though, right? It's not some whacky genius way of saying you are going to have to kill me because I apparently undermine your critical brain function or something, yeah?"   

 

Tony deadpanned, "Oh, no, you caught me."

 

"I'm just trying to make things clear here. So you meant it as in, 'your nearness takes my breath away'?"

 

Tony groaned loudly as if hearing the words physically damaged him permanently and actually turned to get away. James' reflex was faster, though, so he easily took hold of Tony's wrist who was actively trying to squirm away. James quickly pinned him down on the bed and wheezed out between choked laughter,

 

"I am just kidding!"

 

Tony continued to indignantly wiggle and twist as he exclaimed,

 

"I told you I have _highly delicate sensibilities_!"

 

James shook his head in disbelief. Between the two of them, a historic amount of eye-rolling would have to occur, he could tell.

 

"Come on, now. If you stop trying to run away, I'll tell you all about this excellent opportunity to pull a prank on Clint. I swear, it'll be _hilarious_."

 

Tony peered up at him with narrowed eyes, although he did stop with his frantic movements.

 

"What's the estimated success rate?"

 

James smirked down at him wickedly and replied,

 

"Believe me. I can make it work."

 

 

 


End file.
